


Letting Go

by aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm



Series: There's no remedy for memory [1]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Depression, Feels, I Made Myself Cry, I did it again, I'll just leave this here, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Pain, Sadness, Suicidal Thoughts, Tears, Why do I do this, hints of sourin and reigisa, hurt and little comfort, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5844970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm/pseuds/aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto chooses to go somewhere Haru can't follow.</p><p>Or the art of not knowing what you have until it's gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy! Look at what I'm doing instead of updating When the River runs dry. Feel free to yell at me all you want in the comments ;)
> 
> Btw, this fic deals with triggering themes so if you're not good with those you know what to do, then again I'm even triggering myself.
> 
> Anyway, kudos are very much appreciated.

He's smiling but its fake. Everything he does lately is faked. From talking, walking, waking up, eating to swimming,  everything is fake. Makoto can't exactly pin point the exact moment he started feeling this way, but if he had to choose he'd say the moment Rin stormed back into their lives was when it began. He guesses that was the decisive point, the push that took down all the domino pieces. Butterfly effect, some would say. Fate, is what he prefers to call it. Not that Rin being back is a bad thing, no, not at all, quite the opposite actually, he's extrmely glad the redhead has returned. Once more things are back in their rightful place....

And yet, why does he feel this way?

(He watches Rin and Haru in the water. They've just finished a race and now they're talking on the other side of the pool. Rin's laughing loudly, sharp canines displayed, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Haru... Haru looks impossibly happy, there's a spark in his blue irises that wasn't there before, a hidden smile in his face, a-miss-it-if-you-blink- blush on his cheeks. Picture perfect. Both trapped in each other's intensity, a barrier between them and the rest of the swimmers that somehow Makoto wishes he could break.)

  
Maybe he doesn't know what to do anymore.

Maybe he doesn't know where he stands with Haru, what's his role is supposed to be now that Rin is back. Before, he was the one who distracted Haru whenever he thought about his fight with Rin, standing quietly next to him, supporting him, taking care of him as if he were a fragile glass decoration on the brink of breaking. He cared for him, stood for him when nobody else did, stayed through the apathy that overcame Haru since that day, stayed through the good and bad as corny as it may sound. Makoto has always been there for him, Haru's faithful shadow, ready to catch him if things ever got rough. Hoping that one day, he would be enough for the blue eyed boy just like Haru was enough for him. And then, Rin got back and like a lightning bolt, Makoto realized that Haru didn't really need him, Makoto wasn't enough. Makoto wasn't the one who could make him smile, he wasn't the one that moved him, that motivated him, that inspired him, made him better, he wasn't the one who rekindled his passion for swimming.

Haru never needed him.

And the ugly truth makes Makoto wonder what part does he play in all this.

(Maybe he wants Haru to see him the way he sees Rin).

* * *

 

Standing in the middle of his room, lights off, he looks at the ceiling and wonders what on earth is he waiting for?

Is he waiting for Haru to wake up one day and find out that the one he truly wants is Makoto?

Totally pathetic. The mere thought of that happening is ludicrous, ridiculous. If he had the strength, he would slap himself right in his useless face.

Haru doesn't need me.

Is what he shoud be thinking. Because it's the truth. The ugly truth that he has to accept eventually, whether he wants it or not. If he wants to stay by Haru's side he has to, he must.

And then, he laughs, pretty much like Rin did a few hours ago at the Samezuka training pool, not even caring about waking up his family.

When did his life stop being his and became Haru's?

He blinks, feeling even his own room is fake.

He never gets to sleep that night.

* * *

 

He wakes up empty, walks to school feeling empty, follows the everyday routine completely empty. Makoto feels uncomfortable in his own skin, feels like he's living an outside body experience because no matter how hard he tries, he still feels like he's an outsider. He can't  concentrate, he can't do anything without the impending thought that he's doing nothing at all.

It's meaningless.

His parents notice his weird attitude. They ask him if he's okay. He smiles, the same broken fake smile, and says no, of course I'm not fine, can't you see me? Except that he doesn't. He just doesn't care enough anymore to tell the truth. So he lies. He lies and mother and father believe him, smile real smiles that he doesn't know how to replicate, assume that he's tired from school and they stop asking.

Makoto smiles.

Food is tasteless, his stomach has stopped whining for food (or at least he thinks so), the music has lost its marvelous tune, literature that used to enrapture him has lot too his attention. The world stands in front of Makoto, gloomy, dark and empty and he doesn't know what to do. Doesn' know how to give a fuck. Only knows how to sit in his room, stare at surfaces, walls, the floor, his feet, and wish he could scream at the top of his lungs, loud and clear, to make anybody listen. His eyes always feel moist now, his hands shake, and there are dark words in his mind, twisting and taking shape.

It all comes back to Haru in the end.

With no clue about what he was doing, Makoto unintentionally built his world around the boy, gave his heart on a silver platter without him having to ask. Every dream, every hope, every thought, dedicated to a single person. Makoto didn't know how dangerous it could be to give his everything to someone. Now, when he has nothing left he finally understands he made the worst mistake. He understands know that he can't follow Haru everywhere.

But Rin can.

That's the first time he cries

* * *

 

He learns he's lost weight when one day he's putting on his uniform and notices how his pants slide down his hips, how narrow his waist has become, how there are perpetual eyebags under his eyes and his cheeks are suddenly hollow. That explains why lately everyone had been eyeing him weirdly in the locker rooms at practice. He shrugs, cause' he doesn't care enough wonder what he's supposed to say when someone asks him about it.

Every day that passes by, he feels more and more like he's an actor in a theater play. Sometimes he feels like a spectator, watching his life go by in film, utterly unable to do something to change it. Other times, it's like he's a robot in automatic, just going through the motions.

He has never felt so isolated.

He goes to bed and dreams of smothering all his worries with the pillow. Eats and marvels at the sharpness of the knife and if he cut his hand would he feel something? Would he find the lost meaning in the red of his blood? 

Submerges his face under water and dreams of running out of air. And just for a second he's not afraid.

* * *

 

"Makoto-senpai is so nice! He always puts others needs first!"

"I know right?! Ahh, he's so dreamy. Like a fairy prince"

Giggling, swooning.

Makoto's back is against the wall. His jaw tightens.

Can't they see that's his main flaw, not something to admire?

Can't they see that he has put others needs first so many times that he stopped caring for his own?

Can't they see that he's broken?

* * *

 

_What do I want?_

_What do I live for?_

_What is it that I want to do with my life?_

_What is my dream?_

_Where do I wanna go?_

_What is it that I need?_

_In the end, it all comes back to Haru._

* * *

 

He's at the beach. No shoes on, feet hiding under the annoying sand. His hands are sweating and he has no clue what he's doing here. He remembers walking home with Haru, spewing bullshit the entire way with few quips from his teammate, leaving him at his house and just as the door closed behind him-

He can't recall what happened in between standing in front of his porch and arriving to the beach. What he can remember however is the feeling of having a purpose, of unexpected and overwhelming purpose. Like finally Makoto had everything figured out. One look inside the never ending blue and he knew what he had to do. Somewhere along the way, though, it seems he has lost again that feeling.

Green orbs examine the not so calm sea. Today, the sky is gray, clouds block away the sun and briefly Makoto considers the idea of the weather reflecting his emotions.

Since he was a child, he has feared the ocean. Feared it since the day that kind fisherman died in the storm. The slow rumbling of a thunder reaches his ears.

He can't reach Haru. He's not Haru's equal. His mind is a mess of numbness and insecurities, about himself, about Haru, about Rin, about everything.

And that's when the question surges up, unbidden, unwanted.

_Who am I without Haru?_

His breath stops.

A wave crashes violently against the shore, the cold water kisses his calves. He doesn't feel it.

_Nothing._

He gets it. He does.

_I'm nothing without Haru._

That's why he feels so empty, so fake. Haru is his everything, the reason why he keeps on and without him he's nothing, just a shell of a boy, a carcass with nothing inside.

Right then and there, he goes back in time a few years, to the exact moment where he had been exactly in the same position, in the same place, with the exact same thoughts and doubts. Difference is, Haru eventually found him, searched for him. Makoto remembers worried blue eyes gazing at him, his best friend’s insistent hand on his elbow…

It hits him then.

His last thoughts: _What if I decided to leave Haru? What if I decided to be my own person?_

It's like warmth took place inside his heart. For the first time in weeks, he feels alive. The world bit by bit gains back its colors, its life, its joy, all because Makoto after running blind over and over has at once reached illumination. Has finally seen the light. For the first time he smiles and knows what he has to do. What he must do.

A green tie falls down and is blown away by the wind

On a Monday night, at seven p.m, Makoto makes a decision.

* * *

 

Haru wakes up in the middle of the night, startled by the sound of his cellphone ringing incessantly. At first, he thinks he has to be dreaming because no one ever calls him. Ever. Only if it’s an emergency and that has never happened, so when he sits up and answers his pone absent mindedly, he still thinks it must be a dream.

He still thinks the same when a woman’s voice booms too loudly in his ears for his slowed down senses to process “Are you Nanase Haruka-san?” asks the voice, firm and cool, and he makes an incoherent sound that mimics a yes.

She seems to understand “Sorry to bother you this late Nanase-san. Could you please give us the number of the Tachibana Residence? It’s really important”

Tachibana…Residence… He repeats in his mind sloppily, trying to make some sense out of the words. He blinks, craning his neck slightly, trying to chase the sleepy aura around him that won’t let him think properly. That’s when it actually dawns on him to wonder who on earth could be inquiring at this ungodly hour for Makoto’s house number. He frowns “Who’s this?”

“W’re calling from the Iwatobi Police Department… This is a really serious matter; please we need to communicate urgently with Mr and Mrs Tachibana”

If Haru wasn’t awake before, now definitely he is. His heart gives a leap in his chest and his eyes widen considerably. What could possibly the police want with the Tachibanas?

The current occupant of the Tachibana household is Makoto, the only one, at least for the night, since his parents are away dealing with family business and the twins are staying at a classmate’s home. He tells exactly that to the woman. “The only one at home is Makoto” he says. At the mention of the name the line goes eerily silent.

“…”

Haru strangely feels a cold dread settle in the pit of his stomach. He swallows, sweating all of a sudden.

“I…” He clears his dry throat “I can give you Makoto’s number, he surely will-“

“There’s no need” she interrupts him, her tone wavering slightly at the end. A pause “We already have it”

“Then why...” Haru finds himself starting to say but stops, his voice fails him and the hand holding the phone tightens its grip. Suddenly he’s a child again and he’s so so afraid of the monsters under his bed, he’s afraid like he used to be of never being able to swim again, he’s afraid just like when his parents left, like when his granny died.

And he doesn’t know why.

“What’s going on?!” He exclaims and surprises himself with how alarmed he sounds. He can’t bear to analyze why he’s so scared, so exalted.

Outside, the sea is whispering haunting lullabies. The breeze hits his window. A lightning bolt strikes.

The woman takes a breath, apparently debating something but changes her mind at the last minute “Could you possibly have their private numbers? It doesn’t matter which one, we just need-“

“What is going on?” he repeats, truly scared and god it’s only four in the morning, he’s still too sleepy to try to make sense of what’s happening and his bones are stiff, his back too tense “Why do you have Makoto’s cell phone?!” Haru’s heart is beating faster by second, so much he feels like it’s going to come out of his chest and he doesn’t get why.

Not yet, at least.

“What do you want with-“

“Nanase-san, please calm down!” the woman loses her cool, shouts and Haru’s mind is reeling. She takes a breath, sighs, whispers something too low for him to hear and starts speaking again, this time he can tell she sounds really tired “There’s no easy way to say this… We wanted the first people to know to be his parents…” Haru is shaking, he doesn’t get it. Not yet “Are you close to Tachibana Makoto?”

He doesn’t hesitate “He’s my best friend” finally, his voice sounds clear and sure. The opposite of how he’s feeling right now “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with anything?”

Heavy breathing on the other side.

A moment of uncertainty. He thinks for a second that she hung up on him and then-

And then-

“I’ll be direct. Someone gave us a call a few hours ago, saying they found a body drifting at sea, close to shore. A teenage boy, high school student, still wearing his uniform, around seventeen years old, died drowned. And that boy, Nanase-san…that boy was Tachibana Makoto. We found his school bag in the beach and that’s how we got his cell phone, though he didn’t have any other numbers aside from yours, which we thought was extremely weird so we just assumed the phone was new. That’s why we called you; we didn’t have any other way of contacting his parents otherwise. After some debating, we came to the conclusion that Tachibana probably committed suicide… I’m really sorry, Nanase-san, no one should-“

What?

What?

What?!

Haru’s standing now, a loud ringing in his ears won’t let him hear what she’s saying, feeling exactly like in the movies when a bomb detonates too close to the main character. He’s completely deaf but it’s not like he wants (he can’t) to hear one more word coming out of her goddamn lying mouth. She’s lying, and out of nowhere this rage boils inside of him and he’s so mad. So mad. How dare she lie to him, mess with him, mess with things (Makoto) she shouldn’t mess with?!

“You’re lying!” he yells. He can’t hear himself over the sharp sound but if he could, he would detect the trembling of his most of the time expressionless voice “You´re lying…YOU LIAR, YOU CRAZY FUCKING LIAR!!” If he could hear himself talking, he would hear the raw fear in his voice, the shaking, the disbelief, the desperation. The hand gripping the phone shakes too, his fingers clench and unclench and he only notices the device falling to the floor once it connects with it making a dead noise.

He can’t hear it anyway. Neither the voice begging him to pick up the phone again.

_“In the water you’re the best, Haru-chan”_

_“It’s meaningless without you”_

_“I want to swim with you”_

Is what he can hear-asides from the ringing- playing in loops, driving him insane. And maybe he is, he must have dreamt that whole conversation because it’s impossible. It’s not true. Yet, before his brain can catch up with his body, he’s running, his legs taking him down the stairs, straight to the door. He’s never felt so awake.

Haru steps outside and the rain hits him hard in the face, drenches his entire clothes, the strong wind brushes the hair back from his face. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t even care he’s not properly dressed for this kind of weather, attired only in a t-shirt and shorts, no shoes on. He throws himself down the stone steps, needing to get there faster, to check, to make sure that what the woman said was indeed a lie and that everything is perfectly fine, okay, that the world is in order. That there’s no immediate reality where those lines he secretly cherish won’t exist anymore. He can’t stomach the thought and that should be proof enough on its own that it’s a lie, Haru surely had another stupid nightmare.

So why is he rushing instead of going slower?

He’s only halfway down when he remembers why running down wet stairs while being barefoot is a bad idea. His feet slips, the night sky disappears from his vision. ( _He’s in his house. Phone is ringing. A worried woman’s voice. He’s running too. Again. He was running that day too. He ran. Twilight above him. Sand under him. Dull green eyes in front of him._

 _He was so scared)_ He falls the rest of the way, hitting his back, shoulders, legs, repeatedly with every step until he touches ground. His mind has done an eighty hundred degree turn on him and he’s reeling, trying to gain back his bearings. The taste, bitter and metallic of blood fills his mouth. He bit his tongue during the fall.

It bothers him and with the little strength he has he lifts his head off the ground and spits red next to him.

His arms and knees sting, indicating he hurt himself there too, pretty badly. With his disoriented gaze he can make out a lot of gashes, a lot of red across the expanse of his previously unblemished skin.

_(“Why don’t you join yourself?”_

_A childish pout. On both parts_

_“Then I won’t join either”)_

His ankle is swollen. His shoulder feels dislocated. It doesn’t stop him from getting up or trying to, his bones creaking in protest, as he half crawls, half walks to the Tachibana’s residence. To Makoto´s home. His knees fail him at the Porsche. He starts pounding on the door with his fists, driven by the need to know that it’s a lie.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

Itcantbeitcantbeitcantbeitcantbeitcantbeicantbeitcantbeitcantbeitcantbeitcantbeitcantbeitcantbe

( _A hand reaches down, big and warm and familiar and safe._

_“Good morning, Haru-chan”_

_Bright smile. Sunny smile._

_Haru is blinded._

_“Lay off the –chan already”_

_He reaches up, lets the warmth engulf him)_

He’s cold, extremely cold, freezing to death, wet clothes weighing him down. His throat is dry and parched up, his mouth retains the foul taste of blood but he still manages to scream one name and one name only.

“MAKOTO. MAKOTO!!!! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!!!”

No answer.

He tries again “MAKOTO, WAKE UP ALREADY, I’M DYING OUT HERE! MAKOTO!”

Still no one answers. His heart drops to the bottom of the abyss that has been threatening to absorb him. No, no, no, no. Makoto has to be sleeping that’s why…

“IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW I SWEAR I’M NEVER LEAVING THE TUB EVER AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME?!”

He’s getting desperate. At this point he’ll say anything just…

“MAKOTO I’M NOT BLUFFING THIS IS FOR REAL. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?”

Come out.

Come out, I beg you.

Don’t let it be true.

“MAKOTO, PLEASE…”

Pounding. Pounding. Hitting. Screaming. Screaming. Kicking. Sobbing. Crying. More screaming.

Haru pounds and pounds on the door until his hands are raw. Screams and screams until his throat is sore and he can’t pronounce a single sound. He keeps repeating, mouthing his best friend’s name when he finds himself unable to speak. His eyes are red rimmed, heavy, swollen like his ankle and he would rather pretend it’s from all the rain than to face the truth _(He started mourning him long ago)._

Haru prevails in his attempts until his body collapses from exhaustion, his last energies spent, his vocal cords so abused he can’t even whimper and that’s the moment when he finally lets it sink. He finally accepts what he has known for the past hours when he started knocking and yelling and no one came to his aid.

The house is empty.

There is no one inside.

Makoto hadn’t been inside the house since that morning.

No one is ever going to come out of that house to reassure Haru that it was all a cruel lie.

There is no awaiting helping hand. No gentle visage, no sparkling eyes. Not even a sleepy expression appearing behind the door. No ‘sorry, I was sleeping, I couldn’t hear you”.

And there never will be.

It’s over.

* * *

 

On a Tuesday morning, Haruka’s world shatters.

* * *

 

The parents and the siblings of the deceased boy found him when the sun had already taken place in the sky, illuminating the streets of Iwatobi and the havoc the storm had left behind.

They found him, curled up in the entrance. In fetal position, just like a baby, all covered in bruises and blood. Dried tears on his cheeks. Some skin peeled off from his red hands.

They found him, the one whose entire world shattered.

They found him, the one whose life ended the moment their son chose to end his.

They started crying.

* * *

 

**Day 2**

The smell of incense bothers him more than what he expected and finds out quite surprisingly, he hates it. It’s the first time he has felt anything so strong in days, anything other than apathy.

There’s a lot of sobbing going on, from the corner of his eye he can see Rin bawling his eyes out a couple of seats back, he’s crying so hard he can’t contain the little whimpers that inevitably escape him. If he keeps it up he’s gonna flood the entire room. Surprisingly, right next to him is Yamazaki who apparently, somehow, got back in place with Rin. Not that he cares or anything. Haru doesn’t care much about things these days.

Nagisa and Rei are on the opposite side of the room, the blonde’s face is hidden behind Rei’s shoulder, his tears dampening his suit. Rei’s glasses are fogged; anyone with common sense would guess why.They’re not the only ones in grief. Everybody in the room seems to be in a perpetual state of sadness.

Except for Haru.

No, Haru’s not sad. He’s not indifferent either ~~(never)~~ , surprising given that he’s technically numb to everything. Haru is… he’s just so angry.

All he has to do is look up, move his eyes a bit and there it is, the portrait behind the coffin ( _Wide smile, all teeth, closed eyes-startling green covered-a façade. A well played one),_ the main reason for his anger. The catalyst for the resentment and anger simmering under his skin, wanting to be unleashed on someone who is no longer there and that makes Haru even angrier. It’s even more irritating knowing he can’t drown in the sweet waters of oblivion and numbness because of that rage, of those stupid feelings that insist on lingering and Haru doesn’t know how to contain so much shit inside him when he barely can feel a thing.

It’s contradictory as fuck.

He wants it to end once and for all.

Everyone is sad and he’s angry. So angry and bitter.

He gets up, disturbing the ceremony, with the increasing urge to get the hell out of there. He doesn’t think he can stomach the speech he knows is coming from his parents. He can’t bear to hear anything about… He can’t bear to be there. Period.

Every pair of eyes is focused on him as he runs for the door, runs for as long as his legs can carry him. The shouts of his friend left behind.

Haru doesn’t look back. Not for a second.

* * *

 

**Day 3**

He decides not to go to school. He can’t be bothered to assist and knows that because of what happened, the teachers can cut him some slack for sure. He sleeps in late, wakes up groggy and tired like he hadn’t slept one bit and goes through the usual routine and he lets himself believe foolishly that things are finally looking up only for everything to crash down on him again.

He freezes in front of the tub. The sense of nostalgia strikes him like a bus at full speed. Again he’s angry and scared. His knuckles turn white and from the applied pressure on the recent wounds, blood soaks through the bandages. His throat is closing up and he can’t _breathe,_ his bathroom is too small, too full of everything and he needs out.

He exits, slamming the door behind him with too much force. He slides to the ground, buries his face in his knees and tries to understand what on earth is happening to him. Why is this happening? He thinks he needs water but the thought of going back inside and getting in that goddamn tub is too oppressing, not worth considering.

He’s so frustrated.

He stays there the entire day.

* * *

 

**Day 4**

This time he chooses to go to school. His house is no longer a sanctuary; he is trapped in there too. So he wakes up early (avoids the bathroom as much as it’s humanly possible) and heads to Iwatobi High School. ~~On his own.~~

He’s descending the steps, mind purposely blank, when he sees a white cat sitting right there in the way, its big eyes staring expectantly, almost as if… almost as if it was waiting for someone to arrive. Haru scowls at the animal, reminds himself that it doesn’t know any better and keeps on moving, ignoring the existence of the offending creature.

The road is too quiet. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him; he never thought he would be complaining about much appreciated silence. Now, he wouldn’t mind something, whatever ~~(a voice)~~ disrupting the silence.

He glances at the sea, at the sun reflected in the waves, and for the first time in a lifetime, there’s no awe in his eyes, no longing for the sea, they’ve been replaced with deep apprehension and dare he say it? Hate. His scowl deepens and he has to look away. But it’s too late. His imagination, too wild to repress, has been ingrained with the image of someone ~~(a boy)~~ drowning.

He hates the ocean, hates it with a passion and Haru knows that he’s being unfair and that his hate is totally unfounded.

Except it isn’t and it is. Two conflicting thoughts at the same time.

~~The ocean took him away from me.~~

~~He took himself away.~~

* * *

 

**Day 5**

Haru is losing his patience. He’d hoped that today people would stop giving him pitying looks whenever they think he’s not looking. Then again, he should’ve expected this treatment, he reintegrated yesterday after all. It’s too soon. Nonetheless, it doesn’t mean he has to like being treated like he’s a fragile little thing, like he’s gonna break.

Even Amakata-sensei is wary around him, smiles too tightly when she greets him. Too fake. And her eyes look sunken, her skin too pale.

It gets worse when she’s doing roll call and accidentally says his name, catching Haru by surprise and before he can stop himself, he turns around ~~( _“Teacher, Haruka is a boy”)_~~ , the blood draining out of his system and-

He’s met with an empty space.

It’s like a vacuum literally sucked out all the thin happiness and joy from the atmosphere. His classmates fall silent at the same time, everyone holding their breaths.

Haru grits his teeth, going back to stare out the window, pretend like nothing happened. Amakata-sensei takes the hint and stutters a half apology, immediately trying to change the subject to academic matters. However, it’s too late. The damage has been done.

No one speaks much in class after that.

At least, Haru thinks, no one was stupid enough to actually talk to him about it.

* * *

 

**Day 6**

He’s having lunch with Nagisa and Rei in the rooftop. Nobody is talking. To the blonde’s credit he tries to start conversation but every try ends in failure, he opens his mouth about to say something, his magenta eyes water and sounds too similar to sobs are the substitutes for words. So in the end, he goes back to eating quietly. Rei, on his part, focuses too intently on wiping his glasses, rubbing them with his tie a little too strongly. Sometimes he stops to sniff, wipes his red nose with the back of his left hand, returns to the previous process.

They don’t know what to say.

And for that, Haru is glad.

He stays dead silent till’ the bell rings.

* * *

 

**2 weeks**

Gou, Rei and Nagisa decide to resume swimming practice. Haru didn’t have much of a say in the matter, but it’s not like he has a lot to say anyway. In fact, he doesn’t speak. He didn’t say anything. He might as well have forgotten how to talk. If he had the energy to speak though, everything to do with swimming would be indefinitely canceled.

He stands there, in his jammers, feeling out of place, watching as his friends play pretend. Pretend that there’s not something missing, pretend they can swim even with the absence of a teammate, pretend they’re not broken. Pretend they can move on. His windpipe constricts and his body is asking for release. Since he has no escape, maybe, just this time, the water will be a welcome refuge. Willing every worry to go away, he dives in the cold pool.

Bad idea.

The moment his head is under water he starts panicking. In the darkness, he can see a body ~~a boy~~ struggling against the current and the waves, arms and legs battling, maybe because a side of him has not given up, despite the boy’s determination to die, or maybe at the last second he regretted his choice but it was too late to do anything but swim and drown. Maybe he didn’t regret a single fucking thing and just stayed there, sinking or whatever and Haru, he’s sinking too. He is drowning along with the boy and he needs to-

He resurfaces, gasping for air, his lungs and brains convulsing. His head is a jumbled mess, he sees yellow and blue approach him but there’s only one thing he wants to see. He turns, waiting for it, needing it to happen and without his consent, his arm is moving upwards, wanting to grasp. But there’s nothing. A big hole of nothing is what’s there.

His eyes feel like they’re going to pop up anytime soon.

And now he knows he can’t be near big bodies of water. For both reasons as to why he can’t get in his own bathtub and why he hates the sea.

~~The ocean took him away.~~

~~No hand to pull me up. Ever again.~~

He gets out of the pool on shaky legs, threatening to pull him down. Before that happens, he hurries and grabs his stuff, running to his home, ignoring Nagisa’s, Rei’s and Gou’s cries for him to come back.

He forgets to put his clothes back on.

All he seems to do lately is run away from his problems.

* * *

 

**3 weeks**

He starts speaking again, for the sake of telling the others he’s not attending swimming practice. They are surprised about hearing his voice after so long. They’re not surprised about his decision. Gou answers for Nagisa and Rei, “It’s alright, Haru. We get it. Feel welcome to join as soon as you’re able” Nagisa looks like he wants to argue, like he has done since this disaster began, he swallowed his opinion down. Rei nods at Gou’s words. Haru hums in agreement and just leaves.

School is becoming too much of a hassle for him, swimming would not help, it’d only make it worse. It’s not like he pays attention in class either, and he knows it will surely reflect badly on his grades but things like school and the future don’t seem to matter anymore in his world. They’re not priorities. Especially with the giant void constantly present in the spot right next to him. That spot that used to be filled.

There’s one possible conclusion: His life is hell.

He has been stripped bare, robbed from everything that ever mattered to him. Haru loves water. Haru loved water. He no longer can enjoy water, the water he loved so much has turned into a stranger, something out of his reach and he can’t just search for it or catch it because it’s too painful. Too raw. If he reaches, he’ll drown. And yes, while he still loves it (the water) he also resents it, perhaps just as much as the one who triggered this mess.

Not satisfied with that, he can’t go anywhere. The entire town is haunted with memories that won’t go away, every street and park possesses history that Haru can’t get rid of no matter how hard he tries, his house being one of the most triggering places. But he has to endure it. For what, he doesn’t know, what he does know is that he needs to cling onto something, whatever, to live on.

Maybe he should drown.

He’s heading home, tired beyond belief, when something catches his eye. It’s the white cat again, sitting on the stairs, licking at his paw. Haru approaches it; the cat raises its head, assesses him carefully for two minutes and disappointedly lowers its gaze again. Haru wasn’t the one the cat wanted to see.

Haru snaps.

“Get out of here” The cat looks at him again, this time confused. Sirens are screeching in his ears.

“I said, get. Out. Of. Here. Go away. Stop wasting your time! What are you doing here? He’s not coming back, you know” By the end of the sentence, he’s yelling. The sky is dark, the rain is suffocating and heavy on his body. Make it stop. “It’s been three weeks, even a stupid animal like you must know: HE’S GONE. He’s not going to appear out of nowhere and he’s not on vacation either. Don’t you get it? He’s de-gone, he won’t ever come back. Ever. So why are you waiting for him? It’s useless, no matter how much you wish for it. No matter how much you tell yourself it’s a lie, IT’S NOT. You will never see him again, never hear him again, never talk to him… THAT GUY IS-“

His raised tone scares the cat that alarmed, scratches his covered leg and runs away. That’s the perfect moment, of course, for _his_ mom to come out of the house. That’s actually what stopped him mid speech. Mrs. Tachibana is peeking from the door, her grip too tight on the edge and Haru swallows nothing. It’s been a long time since he has felt anything similar to guilt; he expects her to get mad, to start screaming at him the same way he’d been screaming at the cat. It doesn’t happen. Her blank face turns quickly into a sad one, her lips quiver at the corners (she’s pouting and it’s a familiar one, a pout he has seen in another’s face for as long as he can remember), her eyes are watery and ~~god, those eyes, so familiar, the same shape yet it’s the wrong color.~~

He’s been hit right in the gut.

The sirens get louder. There’s no rain, no dark sky but is it really an illusion when he believes he’s still trapped in it? If he believes it’s real?

He climbs the stairs with his heart in his throat and his brain splattered on the floor, leaving the poor woman ~~the painful reminder~~ behind. Her stare heavy on his back.

~~(When a married woman loses a husband, she’s called a widow.~~

~~When a child has no parents, they are called orphans.~~

~~But~~

~~What do you call a mother that lost her son?)~~

* * *

 

**2 months**

A part of Haru broke that day. The one he had ignored deliberately, thinking that if he ignored it long enough, he’d forget about it.

Eventually, he ended up snapping.

He’s stopped assisting school, turned off his phone, stopped taking his friends calls, stopped going out. Technically, he has stopped living at all. He stays curled up in his bed, hiding under the sheets, every single day. Burning imaginary holes through walls has become his new hobby and drawing his freedom. He can only be free while drawing, it’s his new lifeline. Haru only gets up from bed to occasionally eat something or to relief his bladder, if it weren’t for those things he wouldn’t even move.

He grabs a pencil. Grabs his sketchbook. Covers himself with blankets on top of his head, cascading down to the floor and draws anything that will give him some peace of mind. Anything that belongs no more in this world. Hence why his sketchbook is now filled with green, sad smiles, broad backs and bodies drifting in the ocean. A hand reaching out, desperately clawing its way out of the water is one of his favorites. He realizes that what he’s doing is not helping him, it has the opposite effect but he prefers it this way. He has found some kind of twisted closure by torturing his fragile mind every waking hour, every minute he has to spend alone in the overbearing silence.

He draws a little boy, holding his best friend’s hand in an iron grip, peering worriedly at him with his blue irises, concern slightly noticeable in his features. The other kid, with the green eyes, is looking at the viewer, one side of his face bright and smiling, the other side dark and grimacing, a tear falling down his cheek. The green eyed boy’s hand is grasping the raven’s own hand loosely, too loose, with the clear intention of letting go sooner or later.

He stares at the drawing for a whole minute before ripping off the page and burning it in the stove.

**Author's Note:**

> Congratulations for reaching the end of this mess. Thanks so much for reading and I'm so sorry for making you all suffer, I was listening to Dark Paradise while writing so...... oh and Daiji Na Mono Wa Mabuta No Ura, those two songs inspired this ball of angst.


End file.
